View full sizeThomas Ondrey / The Plain DealerLooking for divine intervention hasn't been a winning strategy yet for Cavaliers fans dismayed by the franchise's collapse in 2010-11. How will those fans react to season-ticket renewal pitches by the team? Not well, says Bill Livingston.

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- On December 2, the night of civic shame, the long-time Cavaliers season ticket holder stood at center court, holding his signs.

They were lime green, bright enough to glow in the dark. The television cameras recording LeBron James' return to Cleveland could not miss them. Neither could the Cavaliers players.

"Don't shake his hand," one read.

"No hugs," the other read.

"Instead, LeBron comes out and they're hugging and talking, and you could hear the booing from the stands growing. The players had to hear it," the season ticket holder said.

He doesn't want his name used. But if you go to a lot of Cavs games -- and judging by the number of empty seats at the sellouts they are announcing these days, chances are, you don't -- you've seen him.

The sellouts include seats purchased last spring by season ticket holders such as this one. In keeping with the practice of other teams in town and around professional sports, the Cavs asked for renewals during last season. It was a gamble for the fans, of course, because no one knew what James would do in free agency.

Still, most fans who had been through the LeBron era were willing to bet the good times would continue. Certainly this season ticket holder did so. He had been attending Cavs games since the Arena days, since Richfield, then at the Gund, renamed The Q now.

But Dec. 2 made him wonder how much of his loyalty was being returned by the players.

"The way our players acted around LeBron just took all the air out of the building," he said. "LeBron's out there during the game, jawing at our bench, and I'm standing up and saying to [Byron] Scott, 'Coach, get him away from there!' I mean, I figured he was Old School."

How long did he stay?

"I left in the third quarter. I couldn't watch it any longer," he said.

He tried to stick with the team as the post-Miami game death spiral began. He had been there through the shambles after Mike Fratello and before George Karl and Lenny Wilkens. "In some ways, the [Ted] Stepien era was the best, as far as getting tickets goes," he said. "If you bought two season tickets, they gave you two."

But now, after 20 straight losses and 30 in the last 31 games, going into tonight's rematch in Miami, he has trouble even giving away his tickets. In the 17-65 season that preceded the draft lottery that gave the Cavs the rights to James, it was not like this. No clear-cut franchise player like James is out there, for one thing. No Dec. 2 disgrace occurred, either. The losses did not mount crazily like this.

He got his invoice last week for 2011-12 season tickets. This too is a standard business practice by professional teams. But it struck a nerve this time.

"Are they kidding? This horrible season isn't even over yet. I feel like I threw thousands of dollars away," he said.

This man is probably like a lot of Cavs fans. He didn't play basketball in high school. But he picked up the love for it early in life and still plays, at recreation centers, in church leagues, with a bum knee and all. "I think I could give one of these guys an eight-minute blow and we might not lose that much," he joked.

His favorite player was Mark Price. He sees him as the opposite of James.

"Mark was a little guy who had to bust his tail every night," he said. "He never quit. He couldn't quit. I still wonder why the NBA didn't do anything about that Boston series. It was obvious LeBron quit."

He felt the players were part of the community in Price's day. "I'd go over to the Winking Lizard after games at The Q, and you would see Mark in there, eating with his family. People respected him and left him alone pretty much. But he seemed like such a regular guy."

He contrasts it to the James era.

"They have this roped-off area (at The Q) for little kids, and LeBron would walk by. The kids would come running over, holding out sheets of paper for him to sign," he said. "He wouldn't say anything, not 'How are you doing?' No kidding, like 'How's your shot?' He'd just sign five or six with a squiggle and walk on. You couldn't even tell it was his name. I can do a squiggle and say it's his signature."

This fan speaks for the unhappiness of so many others. He won't be the only one from whom the Cavs won't get another squiggle.

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